


Paved With Good Intentions

by Taliax



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angry Toriel (Undertale), Angst, Canon Compliant, Family, Gen, Light Angst, POV Toriel (Undertale), Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, Sad Asgore (Undertale), Toriel Needs a Hug (Undertale), mentions of the six fallen humans, sans and frisk in the background, toriel and asgore are very divorced
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:42:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28144065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taliax/pseuds/Taliax
Summary: “There is nothing I can do, then.” Asgore's voice fell somewhere between a statement and a question.Toriel's palms felt hot.  She clenched her fists, snuffing out the fire before it could ignite.“You can bring back my children.”
Relationships: Human Souls & Toriel (Undertale)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 28





	Paved With Good Intentions

**Author's Note:**

> Looks like I'm 5 years late to this fandom huh. Oh well time to party
> 
> This fic takes place the first night after the monsters arrive on the surface.

Toriel expected sleeping on the surface to feel a little more comfortable.

Of course, laying sprawled in the grass couldn’t compare to her queen-sized bed. And the breeze was new and old and restless, dancing in her fur and keeping her awake. And somehow, despite not having lungs, Sans was snoring. 

Those were just excuses, she knew. The real interruption to her sleep lay on the other side of the clearing, his hulking form too still to be unconscious.

Her ex-husband.

The murderer of her children.

She wasn’t afraid of him. But after all these years, her anger and disgust had fermented to something even more bitter. If she had her way, he would never set foot near her child.

But Frisk was forgiving. More forgiving than Toriel could be.

She sat up just a bit, trying not to make a sound, just so she could check on Frisk. They were still bundled in Sans’ bony arms, seemingly oblivious to the thundering snores. Toriel trusted Sans—despite everything, her friend had fulfilled his promise—but it still pricked a bit that Frisk had chosen him to protect them, rather than her.

It made sense. She’d learned that Sans was the only one who didn’t fight them.

She rolled over. A pointy rock jutted into the fur between her shoulder blades. The stars were too bright.

And Asgore was still too close for comfort.

With a muffled sigh, Toriel got to her feet and padded towards the edge of the clearing. Sans and the others could protect Frisk for now. She just needed a moment to clear her head, to be…

Alone. How long had she been alone? Perhaps that was the problem. So many monsters—and one human—breathing in sync, filling the air with the sounds of life.

_ You missed that. You missed  _ them.  _Do not pretend he has not caused your pain._

It was a short walk back to the cliff where they’d exited the underground. The moon—the _moon,_ oh, it was beautiful—hung bright and round as a butterscotch pie. The whole world seemed to spread beneath her feet. The wind caressed her face with the tenderness of a lover—

A lover who had seen her children destroyed. Dead. Stolen from their home, struck down when they set foot outside, rammed through with a trident meant to protect— 

“Could you not sleep, either?”

She jolted up at the voice, fire magic already flaring in her palms. The voice’s identity didn’t give her much incentive to put it out.

“Dreemurr,” she said curtly, turning back towards the moon and reluctantly extinguishing her flames. “Do you not have better places to be than bothering a tired old woman?”

“Um.” He coughed. Even after all these years, that cough felt so familiar. “I thought, perhaps you would like some company… but it appears I was mistaken.”

Despite that, she didn’t hear his footsteps leave. Insufferable man.

“ _You_ wanted the company.”

He chuckled sadly. “You always could see right through me, Tori—Toriel.”

She pursed her lips at the nickname. How could he still call her that, even by accident? How could he think things could be the same, when he had her children’s blood on his hands?

Paige. Finn. Ceil. Ren. Malia. Dylan. And very nearly Frisk.

“Things will be difficult for us monsters on the surface,” Asgore murmured. “I do not relish leading our people alone.”

_ Our people.  _ The words stung. The monsters were still her people, but they weren’t _her_ people. She could no longer be their queen. Some wounds just went too deep.

“You will manage, I am sure.” Look at the moon. Not at the man she once loved. “You will have Undyne, and all of the Royal Guard. Against my better judgement, you will have Frisk as your ambassador. You will not be alone.”

The wind whistled between them, almost obscuring Asgore’s next words.

“But they will not be you.”

Toriel’s fur bristled. “You should be grateful they are not. You will find them much more willing to forgive you.”

He flinched. She wasn’t sure when she’d started looking at him again.

“There is nothing I can do, then.” His voice fell somewhere between a statement and a question.

Her palms felt hot. She clenched her fists, snuffing out the fire before it could ignite.

“You can bring back my children.”

Asgore closed his eyes. The moonlight highlighted the creases in his fur, the centuries of pain carved there.

She would know. She’d collected those centuries like scars herself.

“If only I could, Toriel,” he whispered. “If only I could.”

He settled down on the ground a ways off. Just far enough to not technically be in the same space, yet still near enough to make her fur itch.

She should go back to the clearing. Her new friends and her child were there. Without Asgore nearby, she might even be able to sleep.

...No. She doubted she would get a wink now.

Sighing, she started down the path to the clearing—

“Would you tell me about them?”

She paused at his voice, her eyes narrowing. “I suspect you will get to know Frisk well enough on your own.”

“No—them, plural. Your children. The ones I… no.” He shook his head, horns glinting in the moonlight. “I would not cause you more pain if I can help it. I think of Asriel and Chara every day. I thought, perhaps, if you wished to share your fond memories… but I would only taint them.”

He wiped his face with one paw. “I am sorry. There truly is nothing I can do, though I wish with all my soul.”

She blinked at him. His apology, his wishes, his sorrow—none of it could make a difference. None of it could bring her children back.

Paige. Finn. Ceil. Ren. Malia. Dylan.

(Asriel. Chara.)

But she’d saved one. Well, Frisk had mostly saved themself. According to Sans, they’d survived most of the Underground with very little interference. All Toriel had done was return in time to, as Sans put it, “dunk on the king.”

“Toriel…?”

Right. She had been staring.

With a heavy sigh, she settled down in the dirt. Not too close. But not too far, either.

She wouldn't sleep tonight anyway. There were worse things she could do than remember the children who had sacrificed their lives for her freedom.

“Paige,” she said quietly.

“Hmm?” Asgore straightened.

“Paige. She was the first human who fell, after… after Chara.” She swallowed. Heavens, this would not be easy. Yet somehow, despite everything, it felt right.

“Your guards found her in the Ruins. Before I sealed the entrance. She would have stayed with me forever, if it were not for that. I know it.”

She was only seven. Smaller than Frisk, but louder—full of life, full of energy, and at most times, full of the monster candy Toriel left out for the Whimsuns and Froggits. A pink ribbon shimmered in her ponytail, catching the light of Toriel’s fire when they cooked together. Well, when Toriel cooked, and Paige pretended to slice vegetables with her toy knife.

Wherever human souls went to when they died, Toriel hoped she was happy.

“Finn was the next to fall,” she continued. “He had come to Mount Ebott on purpose—I do not think Paige did. I never did figure out how she ended up there…” And Toriel never would, thanks to the man beside her.

Realistically, Paige would be dead by now anyway. Humans did not share the lifespan of boss monsters, and she had fallen hundreds of years ago, so soon after Toriel had lost Asriel and Chara.

And yet it was still an innocent life, ended too soon.

“Finn,” Asgore repeated quietly. Toriel had almost managed to ignore his presence until then.

“He was an odd one. Always surprised that I knew that he was a boy, as if I could not see his soul. Perhaps humans are less discerning in that regard. He loved to play catch in the front yard, and he never gained the taste for snail pie, though he single-handedly kept the spider bakery in business.”

She smiled at that memory. On the few occasions Muffet visited the ruins, she always gave Finn an extra cup of cider with his donuts.

Muffet had later delivered the horrible news herself, rather than leaving it to the spider gossip chain. Finn had been captured by a dog monster outside Snowdin. He’d never gotten to taste the Cinnamon Bunnies he’d snuck off to buy.

She said a prayer for him, though she was no longer sure anyone listened. If someone had, Finn and the other children would still be with her.

“He sounds like quite the sweetheart,” Asgore murmured. Present tense. As if his orders hadn’t been the cause for Finn’s demise.

“I… I can’t do this, Dreemurr.” She squeezed her eyes shut, but all she could see was blood. Blood and dust.

She was free. They were all free. With Frisk’s help, no monsters and humans would fight again.

Was she still too stuck in the past to appreciate just how bright their future could be?

“Toriel—I’m sorry.” His arms fell back to his sides. He had been reaching out, as if to hug her. “I am so sorry…”

“Ceil was sorry,” she whispered. “She left me a note before she disappeared. Nabstablook told her of a cousin with a talent for dance, and she… she wanted nothing more than to perform for monsters, to show that humans were not to be feared…

“And Ren. Always exploring. Reading. Learning. Soaking up whatever knowledge he could, and writing it in his little notebook. I wonder what happened to it when he… when he…”

Tears ran down her face, staining the front of her tunic. Embarrassment flushed her, but why should she care? This was the man who had killed her Ren. Why should she hide her grief?

“Tori—”

“Malia,” she cut him off, her voice shaking. “Always wanted to help. Tried to make my butterscotch pie… I’ll never forget the f-flour on her face…

“And Dylan. Malia’s older brother, searching when she never returned. I had to tell him… tell him I couldn’t protect her…”

She huddled her knees close to her chest, all pretense of dignity gone. It didn’t matter what Asgore thought of her. She knew what she thought of  _him._

He was a murderer. No matter his intentions, she could not, _would not_ forgive that.

“I…” He held out a hand.

“Don’t touch me, Dreemurr,” she snapped, though her soul was hardly in it.

Her anger wouldn’t bring her children back, any more than Asgore’s regret would.

“I will not.” His voice was soft. The voice of a husband, not a murderer, but ears could deceived. The soul could not.

She had seen the extermination points shielding his soul. Strengthening his trident. He was not the man she remembered.

“Thank you,” he whispered, “for telling me of them.”

She looked up, meeting his tearful gaze with her own.

“You can thank me by removing yourself from my life,” she growled.

Then she stood, and made her way down the mountain.

Her child—the one she had left—would be waiting for her.


End file.
